49. Chapter 49
T he fire crackled against the night sky.
Cold ribbons of mist floated out from between the trees into the camp, as if the forest itself was exhaling a breath into the cold night air.
Ren’s body shook with the cold. She hadn’t realized just how much colder it would be here compared to back at the palace.
She was already starting to regret her decision to come and missed her warm bed dearly.
In an attempt to further warm herself, Ren pulled the furs tighter around her shoulders, letting the heat of the flames soak into her bones.
Beside her, Talen and Lucan debated some political point neither would remember come morning, their words slurring as the ale and rum loosened their tongues.
Lucan passed Ren a flask without ceremony. She took a swig, and the bourbon heat bloomed in her chest, its smoky edge speaking of House Tharowen’s deep forges and richer earth. House Tharowen was renowned for producing the best bourbon and whiskey.
Across the fire, Kaelin lounged with a glass of wine that caught the firelight in shades of molten ruby. Of course she’d brought a glittering goblet all the way through the mountain passes, and of course it had survived without so much as a crack.
The road to this place had been carved from a cliff, curling through peaks that vanished into the clouds. Even Ren had felt the prickle of nerves when the path narrowed and the land dropped away into nothing but wind and distant river. One wrong step from Cider and they’d be over the edge.
Sparks leapt from the fire like tiny fleeing stars, and someone began coaxing a slow, mournful melody from a fiddle. Laughter softened, conversations thinned, and the air settled into the stillness waiting for a song to fill it.
“Princess Kaelin,” Lucan called. “Sing one of the old ones.”
Ren’s gaze shifted. Kaelin sat on a low log, one knee bent, the fire painting her in warm amber and shadow. Her eyes found Ren’s for a heartbeat before slipping away as the fiddle’s notes lowered into quiet.
Kaelin’s voice followed, low and unadorned, like it had been torn raw from somewhere deep inside her.
It wasn’t perfect. Kaelin didn’t linger on every note with polished precision.
Sometimes her voice rasped, sometimes it wavered just a fraction off key, but that imperfection made it all the more piercing.
Among the fae, songs were vessels for memory, woven threads of legend and loss, the way their stories survived across centuries.
Beneath the boughs where the cold winds sigh,
I waited alone ‘neath the silver sky.
Your shadow lingered, your voice was flame,
But the night came on, and it called your name.
When the ember fades, will you still know me?
When the frost takes root where the heart should be?
I will wait through the dark, through endless snow,
For the one I lost, and the love I know.
The river froze where we once would meet,
Its song now silent, its pulse grown weak.
Yet I hear your laughter through winter’s breath,
And I’ll walk that sound to the edge of death.
When the ember fades, will you still know me?
When the frost takes root where the heart should be?
I will wait through the dark, through endless snow,
For the one I lost, and the love I know.
Even if lifetimes must turn to stone,
Even if stars burn and leave me alone,
Your name is a vow carved deep in my bone ,
And I’ll follow it home.
The last note lingered before dissolving into the night. The air around the fire felt thicker somehow, as if everyone had been holding their breath without realizing it.
Talen’s voice broke the quiet first, low enough that the fire nearly swallowed it.
“ When the Ember Fades ,” he murmured. He leaned back on his palms, eyes on the flames.
“My mother used to hum that before winter campaigns. It’s older than most of the stones in the capital.
Came from the time when dragons ruled and the skies over Vaelaran burned for weeks. ”
His gaze shifted past her, somewhere deep into the dark between the trees.
“They say it’s about Prince Aeyren Vaelaran, and the woman he loved, Serenya of the Silver Vale.
She was a healer who could call warmth back into dying hearts.
During the last siege, she was taken beyond the northern passes by enemy forces.
Aeyren followed her into the storms, chasing the last glow of dragonfire on the horizon. ”
“Did he find her?”
“No. But every winter he returned to those mountains, hoping she’d wander home under the right moon.”
The fiddle player plucked idly at a string, as if even he wanted the end of the story.
Lucan added, “Soldiers sing it before they march. Lovers sing it before they part. It’s a way of telling someone that no matter what the cold takes from me, it won’t take you. And so the song turned into a winter ritual as a reminder that love might survive even when all else felt lost.”
Talen bumped his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “Look at you. Didn’t peg you for a secret poet.”
Then, the fiddler struck up something brighter, paired with a tavern song about a drunk man waltzing his wife into forgiveness under the moon.
He came home swaying, boots caked in ale,
Sang to the doorway, “I’ve conquered the vale!”
She crossed her arms, said, “You’re late again, dear—”
But he spun her ‘round, saying, “Dance with me here!”
Spin, spin, my bonny moonlight,
Hold me close ‘til the morning’s bright.
If we argue, we’ll just spin faster ,
In the arms of my one disaster.
By the first chorus, fae had sprung to their feet, stomping boots and swinging each other. Even Lucan and Kaelin joined, the princess’s hair unbound and her skirts swirling free.
She scolded him twice, then tripped on his toe,
He laughed and he bowed, “It’s part of the show!”
They waltzed ‘round the yard, the chickens in fright,
While the moon tipped her hat to their quarrel that night.
Spin, spin, my bonny moonlight,
Hold me close ‘til the morning’s bright.
If we argue, we’ll just spin faster,
In the arms of my one disaster.
“Come dance with me,” Talen leaned over Ren, holding out his hand. Ren shook her head, but he only grinned wider. “Don’t make me drag you.”
Ren relented, her fingers warm in his as he pulled her into the light. The world tilted and spun, fire and faces blurring as they moved. She found herself laughing, and he laughed with her.
Then one fatal turn brought her tumbling into Kaelin’s arms.
From the tavern to the fire’s glow,
Through the frost and the drifting snow,
They say love’s rough, but I’d never trade,
For a partner who dances through every mistake.
Spin, spin, my bonny moonlight,
Hold me close ‘til the morning’s bright.
If we argue, we’ll just spin faster,
In the arms of my one disaster!
This dance was different from any dance they’d had before.
There was no challenge, no duel of sharp eyes and sharper tongues.
Kaelin’s palm found the small of Ren’s back, guiding her in a slow spin that had nothing to do with the reel still bounding around them.
Her steps softened; the rest of the camp fell away until there was only the glow of the fire on Kaelin’s cheeks and the silver scatter of moonlight in her hair.
Kaelin’s movements were unhurried, her body close enough that Ren could feel the rhythm of her breath. There was something grounding in it, like they’d stepped into a quieter world that belonged to neither court nor camp .
When Kaelin’s hand slid from her back to her fingers, Ren let it happen, letting herself be turned beneath the sweep of a deep twirl before Kaelin drew her close again.
Without the usual armor of words, without the bite of rivalry, the space between them felt impossibly small.
Kaelin’s fingers tightened around hers, pulling her just that last breath closer. Ren didn’t think about it; she simply met her halfway. Their lips brushed light, fleeting.
The fire roared in the pause that followed, and then –
“Finally!” someone whooped from the edge of the firelight. There was a ripple of cheers, clapping, and exaggerated whistles that broke across the camp.
Ren averted her eyes and felt heat rush to her cheeks, but Kaelin only smiled before spinning her once more, the two of them slipping back into their own rhythm as if they hadn’t just handed the entire camp something to talk about until morning.
Ren didn’t realize she was smiling until Kaelin said, “You should do that more often.”
“Do what?”
Kaelin’s answering smile was soft, almost wistful. “Smile. You have no idea what it does to me.”
Warmth hummed in Ren’s belly, spreading from her cheeks to between her legs, goosebumps rising along her arms. Laughter from Lucan and Talen came from her left, but the noise barely registered to her.
“What is it doing to you?” Ren murmured before she could stop herself. Inside, her head chastised her. You’re supposed to be civil. Nothing more. This is not being civil. This is being –
Kaelin moved before Ren could draw breath, closing the space between them in a single, quiet step.
Her hand found Ren’s arm, swiftly drawing her close.
Kaelin’s lips brushed the edge of Ren’s ear as she breathed, “It’s undoing me piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the ache of wanting you. ”
The words settled between them like a fragile flame. Ren couldn’t move; she couldn’t breathe. Her thoughts splintered, her body suspended in that moment between wanting and knowing what she shouldn’t want .
But Kaelin lingered only a heartbeat longer before easing back, her touch falling away like the ghost of warmth. She just reached for Ren’s hand and guided her back into the slow rhythm of their dance, as though she hadn’t just laid her heart bare and then quietly folded it away again.
Though Ren couldn’t yet name what she felt, she felt grateful that Kaelin had bared her heart and yet asked for nothing in return.
And when the music swelled, they didn’t quicken to match it. They stayed in their own rhythm, holding on just a little longer before the song carried them back into the rest of the world.